"We
should have stopped back there. It was a nice clearing, with a
stream…"

"Have
you forgotten, Master Dwarf, that there are but the two of us? We
need to find something a little more defensible." Thranduil's
back moved as if he was pointing, but Glóin could see nothing but
the same cloak material he'd been staring at all day. "Over
there is a much better place."

"If
you say so, as long as we don't have to sit on your… mount any
longer today." Again, he really didn't want to insult
the stallion, for twice now Thranduil had shown his preference for
his horse over his passenger after hearing a disparaging remark by
letting the monster move at a horrendous speed to cover a league or
more before again slowing. "No offense meant to Aduial or his
smooth gait, mind you…" No doubt he'd not be able to even
move when his feet touched solid ground again. The gait might be
smooth, when at a walk, but it was still anything but comfortable.

"Of
course not. Anor has already made her way behind the mountains to
the west, and Aduial could use a decent rest. But see? We can put
our backs to that boulder there, under that overhang, and not have to
worry about anything coming at us from the rear." Thranduil
turned the stallion so that Glóin could see what he was talking
about.

"Like
spiders?"

"Wolves,
more likely. I keep telling you, the spiders are to the north of us
by quite a distance."

Glóin
sniffed and commenced working his hands free of the Elvenking's belt
again. "Which is, of course, why you had the both of us arm
ourselves."

"Exactly…"
Thranduil's voice had that funny tone to it that told Glóin he was
being patronized. "I had us arm ourselves because the closer we
get to the Celduin, the more likely we are to run into Men, and the
closer we get to Mortal settlements, the more likely we are to at
least see wolves."

"And
you don't trust the Men who live within your realm."

Thranduil
twisted. "Have you got loose of my belt now, or do you need my
help?"

Glóin
grunted and dragged his aching hands from the leather. "I'm
loose. I'm loose." He couldn't move his fingers yet, but he
was at least no longer a burr beneath the Elf's belt.

"About
time." Thranduil had his leg up over Aduial's neck and slid to
the ground in the next moment, landing with a thud and a grunt that
even Glóin felt. "It is not that I mistrust the Men who dwell
beneath my eaves, but just that I am well aware of the predators in
my woods that see their penned livestock as easy prey." He took
a few stiff-legged steps, his hands pressing against the small of his
back at either side, and then returned to his mount's side. "Shall
I help you dismount again?"

The
size of the Elf's grin brought up Glóin's hackles, but he schooled
himself to respond calmly. "Unless you can see a rock or
stump…"

"For
you to fall from when your legs fail you?"

"You
have no faith in the strength of the Dwarves?"

"That
is not the case at all. I simply have a good memory for your
condition when we stopped for our midday repast." The grin
widened. "Or are you saying that you are interested in trying
your luck on your own this time?"

"You'd
like that, to see me fall and break my neck, as I predicted
beforehand." Glóin grumbled.

Thranduil
shook his head, lower lip protruding. "And deprive myself of
your company? Not on your life! My son would never forgive me, and
no doubt yours would take me to task greatly." He lifted
an arm and, taking hold of Glóin's nearest arm, pulled. Like the
last time, he didn't let go, but caught him before his knees could
give out and steadied him until Glóin pushed him away.

"Give
me a moment!" Glóin shifted his weight from his right foot to
his left and then back again, then took a small step and almost
collapsed but for Thranduil's quick reaction at catching him beneath
the arm again. "I'm not getting back up on that beast again."

"That
is your choice, of course," the Elf said far too easily, leading
him by the arm to the side of the boulder where he could lean
comfortably. "Shall I give your son your best wishes when I
arrive and you are still several months behind me?"

Glóin
growled in frustration, knowing the Elf was right. "I knew this
was a bad idea."

"Nonsense.
What you do not appreciate is that once we reach the river, we can
catch a ride with one of the merchants who run trading barges to get
us to the Old Forest Road. We shall have an entire day completely
without need to ride." Thranduil walked stiffly back to his
mount and began relieving it of its tack. "I would hope that
you have some spare gold on you to pay for your transport, or am I
going to have to loan you..."

Glóin
ignored the last bit. "Do you intend to leave your beasts on
the banks of the river up here then?" he asked, his eyes wide in
surprise. The thought of the Elvenking leaving his precious war
horse behind seemed so implausible.

Thranduil
shook his head. "The barge is more than large enough to carry
Aduial and Saerôl. You have never seen the craft used by the river
merchants, I take it."

"I
prefer the stability of working the forges and having the gold due me
for my efforts delivered, thank you."

"You
have changed, then, in the years since we last met," was the
comment, punctuated by golden eyebrows climbing high on the forehead
again. "You were with quite the band of adventurers then."

"That,
my friend, was a different story."

"Meaning
what?"

Glóin
grunted and pushed himself away from the stone face to take a few
agonizing steps. "Meaning that we all have a right to be young
and…"

"Stupid?"

"Impetuous."

"Same
thing."

"Only
if a person doesn't learn from it," Glóin grumbled. "Are
we going to set up camp here tonight, or simply talk until the stars
come out?" He barely managed to get his hands up in time when
his bedroll came flying through the air at his face, and soon after
that, another. "At least you have decent aim."

Thranduil
walked over to him with his shoulders draped with the two bulkier
bundles from the pack horse, and he dropped them at Glóin's feet.
"I generally have very little trouble either hitting or getting
what I desire," he announced proudly and then walked back to the
horses. Another trip had the burdened horse completely unencumbered,
and a slap on the rumps of both sent them trotting off.

"Aren't
you worried that they'll get lost - or stolen?"

"Not
at all. Aduial is as much a warrior as I am. He will keep watch
over Saerôl, and remain close enough to call at need. In the
meanwhile…" The Elf rid himself of his heavy sword and
shrugged a quiver over his head. "…I shall find us some fresh
meat while you set up the camp. Are you able to move?"

Glóin's
steps were still quite painful, but they were coming easier again.
"I am. And who decided that you would be the one to make
all the decisions?"

"I
am a King, after all…"

"Not
my King!"

"It
matters not whether you accept me as such or no. These are my
woods, and my creatures. I will hunt in the Elven way and
bring us back a good meal. You, my stiff friend, are better suited
to building a fire pit and setting up camp."

Glóin
was just as glad not to be tapped for hunting, but refused to give
the Elvenking the satisfaction of agreement, so he just grunted.
"Any rules about chopping wood that I need to know?" he
asked with a tired sigh.

"As
a matter of fact…" Thranduil had his leg through the bow and
bent it easily to slip the string over the tip. "Cut deadwood
only, please. There is no need to harm the living trees." He
gave Glóin a pointed look. "And I shall know if you do
otherwise, so…"

Glóin
let out a groan. "Go on with you! Shoo! Go commune with the
rabbits and deer and see if you can convince one or two to jump into
our cook fire. I won't touch a twig on your leafy friends' heads -
or branches. Whatever."

Glóin
made shooing gestures that Thranduil merely glared at and then
stalked into the trees. With a sigh, he untied first one bedroll and
then the next and placed them on either side of where he'd decided to
make the fire pit. There were enough small rocks around to surround
the small depression he figured had been used at least once for
something similar. He hefted his axe then and deliberately went to
search out some firewood in a direction tangential to the one
Thranduil had taken. Thankfully, there was plenty of deadfall to
gather; he really didn't want to test out the Elvenking's claim that
he would know if Glóin took an axe to living wood.

The
hike to the stream on the other side of the road was a decent walk
that helped stretch out muscles that hadn't had much regular use that
day, and soon the empty pot was full. Glóin found himself having to
resist humming a work song to himself as he walked back to the camp.
With his luck, Thranduil would be back and catch him at it, and be
insufferable for the rest of the evening – not that he wasn't
already insufferable enough!

By
the time he'd dug in a pouch hanging from his belt for the flint and
steel and got the fire going, the horses had returned from wherever
they'd gone and begun cropping grass not far from the campsite.
Glóin found the relaxed, unconcerned mood of the horses soothing
until Aduial's head went up with ears directed forward to listen.

"Hello
the camp! Our menu tonight is rabbit stew!" came a singsong
voice that was growing familiar.

"You
caught it, you clean it," he called back with a sly grin.

"Do
I have to cook it as well?" Thranduil marched out of the trees
with a plump rabbit by the ears.

Glóin
shrugged. "Depends. Did your man put ample supplies in those
bundles, or are we going to have to scrounge for other things to put
in the stew with the meat?"

"See
for yourself. Apparently I have my hands full at the moment."
The Elf squatted with an ease that Glóin envied and pulled out a
wickedly sharp looking dagger.

"You
don't know?"

"All
I know is that Galion assured me we had more than enough for at least
a week if we didn't hunt, and for much longer if we did. Frankly,
knowing him, he probably expects me to purchase more food for us at
Laketown before heading down the Celduin." He gave Glóin a
grin before setting to work to clean the rabbit. "I think he
has little faith in my woodcraft because I have had no excuse to use
it for a very long time."

"A
side-effect of your backside being more in harmony with your throne
than a saddle, eh?" Glóin chuckled as he opened the one lumpy
bundle and frowned in confusion. "What in Arda is this?"
He pulled out a solid and round, brown lump. "It doesn't look
like a turnip…"

"That
is one of the Shire's 'taters," Thranduil said, turning back to
his task. "Legolas had Samwise Gamgee send a few of the plants
to both Master Elrond and to us a year or so ago, and my people have
developed a liking for them. Meat, a tater, a carrot or two and a
few herbs should make for a tasty meal. Check and see if Galion put
carrots in there too."

"I
thought I was doing the cooking."

"It
was just a suggestion, Master Dwarf. Do as you wish, provided that
whatever the result is, it is edible."

Glóin
glowered. "As long as the result is edible. I'll have you know
that I'm a very good wilderness cook!" He dug deeper into the
bundle and pulled out a fat carrot.

"We
shall soon know the truth of that, will we not?"

oOoOo

"Not
bad, Master Glóin! Your reputation as a fine wilderness cook is
well-founded." Thranduil sprawled back on his bedroll,
stretched out his legs and propped himself up on an elbow and picked
at his teeth in the flickering firelight. "I doubt me that the
cooks in my Hall could have done better."

Glóin
blinked in surprise and then leaned forward to put his wooden bowl
atop Thranduil's. "Was that a compliment?"

"Good."
Glóin nodded and let himself sprawl back into much the same posture
as the Elf. "I have a reputation to keep up, you know; and I
don't fancy it being spoiled by being tagged as being as touched in
the head as my son is for having taken up company with an Elf."

"Nor
would I wish to have my advisors talking about my having turned
eccentric on this journey that they truly did not want me to
take – especially if they found out I made the trip with a Dwarf as
a traveling companion."

"Then
they are probably distressed with you today, finding out that you got
away without asking permission?"

"Oh,
most definitely!" Thranduil laughed heartily. "Ever since
Legolas left us to take up the task of renewing the land in Ithilien,
far too close to the realms of men for their liking, my advisors have
been attempting to wrap me in quilting and tie me to my throne. The
situation only got worse after Lothlórien emptied and the Galadhrim
divided in three: those who came to make their new homes in my woods,
those who followed Celeborn to Imladris, and those who followed
Galadriel to the Havens."

"Gimli
speaks very sadly of that, you know," Glóin offered after a
long moment of silence. He tossed into the fire a stray twig lying
on the ground in front of him. "The word under the Mountain is
that he was bewitched there."

Thranduil
nodded, all teasing apparently set aside for the moment. "So
Legolas told me. Evidently your Gimli was quite taken with the White
Lady, and she with him; and Legolas wrote once that Gimli nearly went
into mourning when he heard that she had left for the West. I think
that surprised many when I shared that bit of news; I know it
surprised me."

Glóin
sat and thought for a bit and then got up to fetch both the wineskin
and the skin of ale from the pile of bundles from the pack horse. He
pulled the cork on one, sniffed, re-corked it and dropped it onto
Thranduil's stomach before returning to his bedroll with the other.
"Tell me, do your people treat you differently because of the
company your son chooses to keep: Men, and Hobbits and Dwarves as
well as Elves?"

"No…
That is, not so much that I would notice at court or in council, but
only the One knows what they think or say when I am not around.
Why?" Thranduil sat up and crossed his legs, then took a
healthy swallow of his wine. "Do yours?"

Glóin
took two swallows and then wiped the back of his hand across his
mouth and burped politely. "Sometimes. I catch them looking at
me, or at Gimli's brothers, as if we had grown an extra arm
sometimes."

"Did
you tell them you were intending on traveling with an Elf when you
left your Mountain?"

"No,
of course not. I knew better. And had you told your advisors that
you were intending to travel with me before we left – with or
without military escort – I'd be willing to bet fresh-mined gold
that your advisors would have started giving you strange looks
as well."

"Not
to mention tying me to my throne in reality." Thranduil took
another deep swallow and then re-corked his skin. "You know, I
am finding it most distressing that we seem to share some of the same
problems, both with our peoples and with our sons."

"True.
I had never thought to have anything in common with a pointed-eared
Elf King."

"Nor
I with someone who spends more time beating things into submission
with a sledgehammer than anything else." This time it was
Thranduil who seemed to grow thoughtful over the course of a long
silence. "How did they do it, do you think?

"Do
what? And who?"

"Gimli
and Legolas – how did they manage to become friends?"
Thranduil's finger pointed first at Glóin and then at himself. "You
and I shall never make that mistake, I am certain…"

"Absolutely
not!"

Thranduil
only nodded. "Which then begs the question how – and why –
they did. Did we raise them incorrectly, do you think?"

Glóin
shrugged. "I suppose they became friends with everyone who was
a part of the Quest. Considering some of the tales I've heard Gimli
tell, I would imagine saving each others' lives might have played a
part."

"Yes,
yes, there is that, of course. But…" Thranduil sighed.
"Never mind. I guess how an Elf and a Dwarf could decide to
become brothers-of-the-heart will just have to remain one of the many
mysteries of our time."

"I
hear wisdom at last," Glóin snorted derisively.

"You
have heard it all along. Only now are you finally attuned to it well
enough to recognize it as such." Thranduil sniffed and sat up,
focusing on looking out into the darkness for a long moment before
reclining once more into a relaxed sprawl.

"Did
you see or hear something?" Glóin was stiff, staring out into
the darkness.

The
Elf shook his head. "There is nothing, neither from the trees
nor from the horses. All is calm. Aduial knows to awaken me if
there is any trouble, so I need not worry. I suggest you get some
sleep, Master Dwarf. We have another day's riding ahead of us before
we reach Laketown."

"I
could have you stand the first watch, but frankly, Aduial's hearing
is undoubtedly more acute. Relax, Master Dwarf. We are still safely
beneath my eaves." Thranduil folded his arms across his chest
and gave a deep sigh. "The weather favors us this night, and
the trees speak of nothing that might cause us harm."

"You
won't mind if I stay awake and make certain of that anyway, will
you?" Glóin grumbled.

"Suit
yourself; I do not ask it of you. But if you do decide to stand
watch…" Thranduil rolled slightly and pointed at the skin of
ale. "…I suggest you not drink much more of that." He
snickered softly to himself and settled back down on his bedroll, and
very soon his breathing had evened out to the point that, had his
eyes not been wide open and looking up at the overhang, Glóin could
have sworn the Elf was asleep.

"Not
drink any more ale? How do you expect me to stay awake?" He
waited, but none of the Elvenking's barbed repartee answered him.
"Hmph! I'm sorry my company bores you." Still nothing.

Glóin
reached for the skin of ale, uncorked it, sniffed at the contents,
thought for a moment and then frowned as he pounded the cork back
into place and tossed the skin to the end of the bedroll. "I
hope you intend to awaken to serve your watch later," he
grumbled a little louder, but again received no reply. If anything,
the Elvenking's breathing deepened a little more and began to almost
resemble snoring.

"It
would be just my luck to be stuck in the wilderness with a
pointed-eared madman who trusts his horse's abilities at security
over that of a proven warrior's, and is now fast asleep and not
answering me." Glóin pushed himself to his feet, retrieved
his axe from where he had set it to eat, picked up the wooden bowls
and the now-empty stewpot and stomped off in the direction of the
stream. "Might as well clean these," he grumbled to
himself. "Only Mahal knows if you even know how to wash
your own dishes!"

His
self-appointed chores quickly finished, he wandered over to the one
rock the right size to serve as a seat. Just at the edge of the
reach of the firelight, he saw the horses, lazily cropping at the
thick grass. Their ears flicked about without concern. Oddly, that
fact was reassuring, but there was no way he would ever admit that to
the Elf. He rested his axe on the ground where it would be easy to
retrieve and use it, should the need arise.

"What's
worse is that I did this to myself. And now look at me – I'm
talking to myself too! If I survive to see you again, my son, you
and I are going to have words, I swear it!"